Can You Keep A Secret AU
by Ace-Of-Spades-2014
Summary: Just as the title says, this is a Can You Keep a Secret AU with Stiles as Emma and Derek as Jack (who in the movie is played by Tyler Hoechlin). When thinking the plane he is on is going to crash, Stiles tells a complete stranger all of his secrets, only to find out later that the stranger is the CEO of the security company he works for.
1. Chapter 1

Stiles dropped into the seat nearest the window, huffing out loud in exasperation. The meeting in Chicago hadn't gone as planned and he was ready to go home. Though the thought of home automatically made him think of work, and that wasn't necessarily something he was looking forward to. He could only imagine the lecture that awaited him. It would no doubt include all his flaws being sneered at him: 'Why did he have to be such a spaz?', 'Didn't he ever stop talking?', 'Couldn't he do one damn thing right?'. Well, obviously not, he thought dejectedly, banging his head against the window pane.

That was the moment two very good things decided to appear. One, an extremely attractive man took the seat beside him, and suddenly Stiles was thinking he could enjoy the flight very much if this was who was going to keep him company. Two, the flight attendant was there, offering a flute of wine. Stiles accepted the wine with a grin, having no shame in practically chugging half of it down. As he drank, he side-eyed the man that had sat next to him.

The man was sculpted like a greek god. He was chiseled, as greek gods tended to be, but instead of the cold stone demeanor that usually accompanied such looks, he gave off an aura of warmth. When he accepted his own wine, he smiled. It was small and it was brief, but by the good Lord it was gorgeous. Stiles had to pause in his own drinking and look down at his lap to keep from losing his breath. He shook his head to rid himself of inappropriate images, concentrating on pretending to be a normal person. Unlike all the other people in Stiles's life, he didn't want to scare the greek god away with his geeky awkwardness.

"Cheers," the man next to him declared and Stiles's heart picked up cheerfully.

"Cheers," he raised his half drained glass and rose his head to meet the man's beautiful green gaze. A wide grin spread across his bambi-like face.

The man smiled in return, but it wasn't like the smile he'd given the flight attendant. This one was more teasing, like he was quietly laughing at Stiles. He tilted his head to the side and pointed to the device in his ear. "No, sorry. Someone just thought I was talking to them."

Thoroughly embarrassed, Stiles looked back down at his lap, his pale skin heating up. _Serves you right, _he thought snidely at himself. He had a girlfriend. There was no reason for him to be ogling the hot guy beside him. Because he was loyal god damnit, and dependable too. No warm, subtly smiling, green-eyed, greek god had to power to change that fact.

It didn't matter that him and Malia were in sort of a rut, or the fact that he was pretty sure he wasn't in love despite her being the only girl he'd ever dated. He would remain stout. Which meant he was determined to stare out the window, he decided, jerking his head up to stare out of the plane as it lifted off. He wouldn't glance at the _him _at all. Nope not once. And he wouldn't speak anymore either. His thin, pink lips were going to be sealed the entire flight. Yep, that was the plan. It was a good plan too.

But then, a little over an hour into the skies, the plane began to shake. He startled upright. "What's happening?" Dozens of passengers demanded, including Stiles, who was naturally inclined towards panic in the best of situations.

"It's just a bit of turbulence," the nearest flight attendant tried to reassure, but immediately after she said it, the trembling of the plane increased.

"We're going to die!" Stiles cried out hysterically.

"We're not going to die," the greek god stated calmly. His green eyes were set on Stiles, as if his steady gaze had the power to soothe someone frazzled nerves. It didn't. "The plane's just going through a bit of turbulence."

"They have to tell you that! It's not like they can just tell us the truth that the plane's going to crash and soon we'll just be mangled bodies strewn across the wreckage. The would just create chaos and panic. And they can't have that, so of course they're going to say it's just turbulence. But they're lying! And, oh my god, I don't want to die."

Green eyes watched him in a mixture of concern and amusement. How he wasn't freaking out even just a little bit was beyond Stiles. The guy probably took some xanax before getting on the plane, or some other nerve sedative. Because no sane person could be as calm as this guy.

"I can't die! I haven't done anything with my life. I haven't succeeded in my job. I haven't had children. I don't even think I've ever been in love."

It spiraled from there. With his heart beating twice as fast as normal and his fingers digging into the upholstery, Stiles went on and on about every secret he'd ever held onto. He shared how he hated his coworkers because he thought they were pompous and pretentious, and about how he would sometimes free himself from them under the guise of helping Lydia in accounting. Even though Lydia was a genius and didn't need help with anything, and certainly not with numbers. Instead, they'd just get coffee and gossip.

He talked about Scott, who was his best friend and the best roommate a guy could have. "I had a sex dream about him once. It was completely erotic and I realized I was bi, but not for him. Just bi in general."

And he talked about Malia, who was the only girl in high school that had found him worth wanting. They'd been dating since junior year of high school, but even after all these years Stiles could never get himself to feel anything deeper for her. Nor could he bring himself to break up with her. She kind of scared him. He talked about her domineering personality and about how she liked to leave scratch marks when they had sex. "Which I thought I would be into because I always imagined myself being a little kinky in bed, but honestly it just hurts. Plus, that's the only kinky thing she does. Anytime I suggest doing something new in bed she turns me down. And dude, she can be brutal. Like, she doesn't just say no, man. She really gets into it about why what I want is disgusting."

Somewhere along that line, Stiles realized that he was ranting like a maniac. Subconsciously, he may have also realized that the turbulence had eased up just a bit. "I'm uh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to unload all that on you."

The greek god just smiled. That barely there in the corner of his lips, blended into his dark, neatly trimmed stubble kind of smile. "No. It's okay. Keep talking."

For a brief second, Stiles paused anyways. No one had ever told him to keep talking before. Actually, he reflected, no one had ever really listened to him before. They always got annoyed and told him to shut up. Or, if they were his friends, they'd humor him and then pretend to listen, but really their expressions were entirely blank and they weren't listening at all. After the second had ended, Stiled told the stranger as such. Then he proceeded to talk more.

"What was that?" Sties cut himself from his spillage of secrets. The plane had just given a violent jerk. Everything suddenly came into a sharper focus and Stiles felt as if the air was condensing around him.

A warm hand fell on his bony shoulder. "The plane landed."

"What?" Stiles jumped out of his seat, hitting the overhead compartment with a thud.

Even the greek god winced at the sound. "Are you alright?" he asked in concern, standing much more gracefully than Stiles had and moving into the aisle, stepping back to let Stiles go through.

All at once, every secret he'd unburdened himself of came back with a thundering force. His face burned with shame. "Yea, I, uh...I…" he cleared his throat awkwardly, fidgeting and stammering under the beautiful eyes of a stranger that knew everything about him. "I have to go." He hurriedly stumbled out into the aisle to get off the plane and through airport and finally get some much needed fresh air.

"Wait, I…" The man who sat next to him tried to call out, but Stiles was too busy trying to get away to hear him.

By the time Stiles got his luggage and was heading out of the double doors of the airport, his breathing had steadied and his face had returned to its pale hue. He planned to walk a few streets down - stretch his legs, enjoy the San Francisco breeze - before calling for a ride, but the sound of his name being called stopped him in his steps.

"Malia. What are you doing here?"

She smiled, which always looked more like a snarl than anything. It wasn't just Stiles thought that. Other people had commented on it too. Like an excited coyote (Stiles had always mentally compared her to a coyote. He wasn't sure why), she bounded towards him. Her strong, toned, arms circled around him, embracing him with all her strength. "I missed you." She leaned her chin against his shoulder. Her dark hair, smelling like apples that day, ticked his nose.

"I missed you too," he responded as best as he could. It was more difficult than one might think. Malia was strong, and right now she was squeezing him to his last breath.

After a moment too long, she finally let go and stepped back. "Are you okay? Scott called saying your plane was about to crash."

Stiles could feel the heat rising back into his cheeks. He'd forgotten he'd texted Scott in his panic. "Just a little bit of turbulence. But you know Scott. Bit of a drama queen that one."

"Right." She smiled again, but this time it was with a teasing edge. In a single word, she could adequately convey that she thought Stiles was an even bigger drama queen. She was good at that. "I thought you could take me to dinner," she announced grabbing his hand and dragging him to her car. "That way we could catch up. I've been thinking about us a lot while you've been gone." She opened the passenger door for him.

"What have you been thinking about?" he asked, trying to sound casual, but knowing that he failed.

She smiled that snarl of her's. Almost predatory, Stiles shivered. "We'll talk about it over dinner. How do you feel like taking me to the steak house?" Before he could answer, which of course was going to be yes if only because she was a very hard woman to say no to, she pushed him inside and closed the door.

Neither noticed the figure standing out on the curb of the airport, watching the car drive away.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning Stiles woke up laying on his back, which was strange because he liked to sleep on his side curled around a long pillow. He grumbled incoherently, and tried to shift to a more comfortable position, but a hand held down his shoulder. A solid weight sat on top of him, right on his groin. His morning wood shot up in interest, while the rest of him wasn't entirely in agreement.

Groggily, he opened his eyes to see Malia straddling him. She pecked him on the lips and then nipped her way down to his neck. "I think I need to wake up a bit more," he mumbled against the sensation of her teeth grazing the sensitive skin of his neck.

Her lower half grinded against him, causing an involuntary groan. "You seem awake enough to me."

"That's only one part of me," he laughed, but was grateful when she still swung off.

Malia leaped from the bed to land gracefully a good three feet away. "I'll make you expresso. That should wake you up." She was wearing one of his shirts - the one with the flash logo on it - and it barely hid the fact that she wasn't wearing any panties. Stiles shifted to his side to watch as she poured coffee in the little cups her father had bought her last Christmas. Feeling his eyes on her, she danced in place as she set the cups on saucers and returned to the bed with him. She handed him one of the cups and took a sip from her own before setting it down on the bedside table. Leaning forward to trail her fingers up his thigh, she purred, "I can't wait to do this every morning."

The look of confusion must have been clear on his face.

"When we move in together," she explained, moving her sharp nails higher up his leg.

"Right." That was what she had wanted to talk about over dinner. After dating five years of dating, she thought it was time for them to take the next step in their relationship; to live with one another.

He put his hand on hers to stop her advancement. Usually he'd accept her seductive techniques, because she did them very well, but the previous evening had left him feeling frazzled even into the early morning, and he wasn't up for anything too strenuous.

"Me too," he kissed her on the cheek chastely. She allowed the small form affection, but made no effort in hiding her frustration at having him stop her own plans. Before she had a chance to press for her more aggressive stance on physicality, Stiles explained, "Until then, I think I need to get home before work so I can get changed into some actual clean clothes."

She huffed and rolled her eyes, but didn't argue. With a hard press of her lips against his, she stood from the bed again to make her way to her walk-in closest. "I guess I'll see you after work then."

Without any exchange of "I love you" (because that wasn't their thing), Stiles hurriedly put on the clothes he'd worn the day before, grabbed his suitcase, and headed out of the door where his own apartment waited for him two streets down.

"Scotty, I'm home!" Stiles called as soon as he stepped into the apartment. Now usually Scott would come bounding towards him like an overly large puppy, but that day there was no bounding, or yelping, or any other sort of playful, puppish antics to be seen. It was pretty disappointing if Stiles did say so himself. He tried again. "Scott. Hello."

The further he stepped inside, he began to hear Scott's bedroom. Clambering noises, as if rushing to put things away. And whispering noises too. Suspicious, Stiles moved to the door, prepared to call Scott out once more, but then the door swung open and a pretty asian woman tripped into the main room. "Oh, um, hi," she stammered at the sight of Stiles, pushing back long black hair away from her angular face. She had a kind smile, both shy and quirky. It was especially adorable when she bit the side of her bottom lip nervously. "You must be Stiles. I'm Kira." She hardly gave him a chance to greet her in return before she was moving towards the door, calling over her shoulder, "I'll see you later Scott."

Yea," Scott appeared in the doorway looking sweaty and out of breath. "I'll see you later."

The door closed and and Scott turned to Stiles, ready to ask how the end of the flight was. Stiles beat him to the punch. "So I guess this means you're over Allison? Good for you!" Because that had been a rough time for everybody as Scott mourned the loss of his high school sweetheart when she'd made the decision to move to France with her father.

"What?" Scott had the audacity to look clueless, though to be fair, that tended to be a natural state for him. A moment later he was blushing and shaking his head in denial. "No. Uh, no. She's just a co-worker."

Stiles's eyebrow rose incredulously, "A very attractive coworker." Who seemed to have stayed the night, Stiles thought, but didn't think needed to be said aloud. Scott could only handle so much humiliation.

"Oh? Uh, yea? You think so?"

"Seriously dude?" Stiles scoffed, a little annoyed his best friend was trying to play this off. "You're telling me you didn't notice how attractive she is?"

"Hey how was the end of your flight?"

"Don't try to change the subject!"

"You were freaking out in your texts and then suddenly radio silence. I was getting worried man."

"Obviously not too worried," Stiles mocked, but he was already starting off towards his room to get ready for work.

"Malia called me when she saw you getting your luggage. So, how did the rest of the flight go? Things calmed down afterwards?"

"Actually, the whole flight was mortifying," Stiles groaned. "Man, you'd never guess what I did."

Although, he might be able to make a guess. Stiles did have a habit of getting himself into the most awkward situations.

Stiles arrived at Wolf Security just in time to walk the last stretch with Lydia Martin. Without ever verbalizing their intent, they'd synchronized the time they would pass by Maribel's Bakery for 7:45. Petite, strawberry blonde, and fashionable, she skipped to his side and intertwined her arm with his. "Guess what I heard?" Her sultry voice was heavy with conspiratory gossip.

"Don't tell me everyone already knows about my meeting."

Her brilliant emerald eyes peered up at him, narrowed in their criticism. "My news has nothing to do with you."

"Oh, okay. That's good. Carry on then."

She huffed haughtily, irritated at even the slightest bit of interruption. It took her a moment to regain her composure to continue with her report. "Apparently the founder of Wolf Security is going to be here. Arrived yesterday."

Stiles's forehead furrowed. "I thought the founder was dead."

"That was Laura Hale. She founded the company with her brother, but after she died I guess he had a complete meltdown. Moved to New York or something. And now he's back to help run the main office." She thrummed with energy as they walked through the glass, double doors. He could only imagine what was going on in her head: a fantasy of a rich, successful, and hopefully attractive man to manipulate to her whims. "Now," she wondered, her tone sincere but her eyes twinkling mischievously, "What was that you were saying about your meeting?"

He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could get the words out, one of the secretaries caught his attention from behind the front desk. "Stiles, Mr. Finstock wants you in his office."

Sighing, he disentangled himself from Lydia's hold. "I guess you'll find out soon enough."

"Good luck," she called after him as he headed towards the elevator. This time she didn't even bother to sound sincere.

Stiles fidgeted the entire time in the elevator going up to the 4th floor where the design team had their cubicles framing the polished, dark wood department space. Mr. Finstock, who everyone but the secretaries called Coach, didn't actually have an office. Rather, he had a cubicle like everyone else on the team, only his had glass panels surrounding it.

"Stilinski!" Coach shouted as Stiles other anxiously stepped out onto the floor, though there was no need to yell. At 7:55am, no one was on the floor yet except for the head of the department himself.

"Uh, hi Coach."

Finstock scowled, but it was without any real heat. Just annoyance. Granted, really heavy, serious annoyance. "I just got a call from Chicago. Guess what Harrison had to say about the meeting?"

"That I demonstrative and enthusiastic about our new portal security deivces?"

Finstock curled a thick finger to signal Stiles to come closer. When they were standing barely a breath away (very uncomfortable and not altogether necessary, Stiles thought), Finstock raged, "Did you really electrocute Harrison?"

"Only a little bit."

The scowl darkened to an almost scary level of intimidation.

Frantic, Stiles explained, "He said our prices were too high and that the device wasn't something that would just sell itself, so I felt it was up to me to show him exactly why our prices were quite reasonable for what we were offering."

"And exactly how did you think electrocuting him would accomplish that?"

So the thing was, their newest product was meant to replace the use of legalized trasers. Because tasers were usually kept in purses or something similar, it was typically more difficult than it should be to get out when the need arose. To make defending oneself easier, Wolf Security had developed a small but impactful taser that hung on a bracelet like a charm. The person being attacked just needed to raise his/her wrist, press the metallic bead at the top of the taser, and shoot. Stiles had thought that it simply needed to be demonstrated to in order for its value to be seen.

"I was in defense position," Stiles mimicked his actions from the Chicago meeting; one foot in front of the other, fists up. "I made a notion towards the bracelet with the taser on it to show how easy it was and I talked about how the design would get more people to think about defending themselves because it was something so simple. That it would be easier to people." As he talked, he waved his hand around to get the point across. And just kept waving.

"What is this?" Finstock cut him off gruffly. "What are you doing with your hand? Stop that. Is this what you did at the meeting? Stop, just stop." Stiles stopped. Finstock heaved a heavy, loud sigh. With irritated, I'm-done-with-this-shit posture, he ordered, "Clean up your desk."

"What? You're firing me? You can't fire me! I provide valuable contribution to this company. I…"

"I'm not firing you. I said clean up." Finstock turned away, finished with the conversation, leaving Stiles to hurry over to his desk, jumping up on the wooden divider to swing himself over into his cubicle. On cue, the other two members of the design team stepped out onto the floor: Erika and Jackson. With the addition to their presence, Finstock raised his voice, talking on what people at the company liked to call his 'Coach" persona. They all figured it was him trying to sound inspirational and motivating, but was really just corny and dramatic. "The founder of Wolf Security will be working from this site for the foreseeable future. I expected everyone to put on their best game faces and get shit done."

By this time, Erika and Jackson had both taken their places, a smirk playing on their stupidly hot faces. Jackson, whose cubicle was closest to Stiles, peered over his computer screen at him, silently laughing. Next to Jackson, Erika was stifling chuckles, pretending to organize her pictures around her desk while continually looking up to mock Stiles. He did his best to avoid both of their knowing gazes, his face heating up at the knowledge that the news of his failure had indeed spread. Not allowing their infuriatingly aura of superiority ruin him completely, though, he forced himself to keep tidying his area, senselessly moving around the miscellaneous objects he had laying about.

"He wants to observe each department for the first few days that he's here and I want this department to outshine the other departments."

"But aren't we really just one big team?"

"Shut up Stilinkski!"

The elevator dinged. Every eye in the room turned to see the new arrival. When the door opened it was to reveal a white, blonde man just about to exit his middle aged years, a bored expression plastered on his face. He nodded to Finstock and Finstock nodded in return, turning to the other three members of the team with an over the top, fake smile. "People, let me introduce you to Derek Hale."

The blonde man stepped aide to speak with Finstock semi-privately, and in doing so, allowed the design team of Wolf Security to get their first glimpse of the once elusive founder of the company. Stiles's jaw dropped, immediately ducking his head. _The_ Derek Hale was a green-eyed, greek god. The same greek god from the plane.

Shit. Stiles's life officically sucked.


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles's senses went on immediate high alert as he ducked his head blow the wooden divider, acting as if he were diligently typing away. From the other side of the room, Stiles could heart the elevator close and a pair of footsteps make their way around the Design Department. With his heart racing, Stiles sunk further into his seat, trying to disappear into himself. His face was beat red and it bled down to his neck, even descending beneath the collar of his shirt.

"This is Jackson, our Senior Design Marketer," Finstock introduced with a slight pride clear in his tone, though he'd never say such a thing aloud. Stiles personally thought Jackson was a prick, but even he had to begrudgingly admit that the guy was pretty impressive. He had designed much of the security systems used for the local bank, pending it to banks across the state and country wide.

"Nice to meet you." Jackson must have stood up to shake Derek's hand, sounding much nicer than he actually was. To those who didn't know Jackson, one might have even mistaken him as a gentleman. If Stiles wasn't dying of shame, he'd have rolled his eyes at the fakeness of it all.

"This is Erika," Finstock continued to introduce.

Erika greeted Derek kindly. Stiles could hear the soft swish of her golden hair as she flipped it across her shoulder. In his mind, Stiles could see her hold out her hand to be shaken, pointing her long, sharp fingernails down to show off the professional paint and design.

"And this is Stiles," Finstock finished the set of introductions in a rush. He knew Stiles would make a fool of himself if given much time. Usually, Stiles wouldn't have cared and he would have plowed forward unabashedly. As it was, he squeaked, "Hey" with his head still low and pretending to be working too to even be distracted by the presence of the boss. Unfortunately, it didn't deter Derek from stepping right beside Stiles's station. An elbow rested on the divider. In the reflection of the computer screen, Stiles could see Derek leaning towards him with a smirk and glistening green eyes.

It was obvious that Derek recognized him, but Stiles still couldn't bring himself to look towards him. It was hard enough to breathe as it was; he'd probably stop breathing altogether if he had to meet the man's gaze straight on.

Vaguely, Stiles was aware that the others had started talking again: Jackson and Erika doing their best to vie for the boss' attention. For once, Stiles almost felt grateful for their need to be the center of attention, except that Derek wasn't falling for their antics. Though, he politely nodded and hummed at the appropriate moments of their stories, his eyes and smile were still directed towards Stiles rather than at them.

"Would you care for a coffee?" Jackson suddenly asked Derek sweetly. It was the first sentence after Finstock's introductions that Stiles heard coherently. That was probably because Stiles had become accustomed to respond to similar request. As expected, the next phrase out of Jackson's mouth was, "Stiles, you mind getting coffee for the boss?"

As the junior design member, Stiles often got coffee for the team. It was even something he might have complained about on the plane, bemoaning about how his co-workers treated him like he was a servant, and also how the coffee tasted like dog shit anyways. He may have even mentioned how he had a tendency of spitting in Jackson's coffee when he was feeling especially put-out.

"Yea, um, sure," Stiles stuttered, doing his best to avoid the amusement in Derek's chiseled expression. "What kind of coffee would you like Sir?"

"I'm not sure," Derek's voice was deep and much too near. There was a subtle teasing edge to his tone. Waiting for Stiles to make a fool of himself - as he well as on his way of doing - all other eyes in the room were on him. With a crooked grin, Derek asked, "What's the coffee like here?"

Stiles blushed, fully aware that Derek knew exactly his opinion. "It's great," he smiled anyways. In his misguided effort to seem authentic, Stiles finally lifted his gaze.

That had been a mistake. The moment their eyes met, Derek's crooked grin took on a more teasing quality. Silent laughter was clear in the dark green hues of his eyes. Stile froze.

Then, both a welcoming and unfortunate presence arrived. Lydia stepped into the room, her heels clipping against the polished wooden floor. "Hey Lydia," Jackson called out excitedly, though he tried to hide the eagerness behind his greeting. The two had dated a while back, but had broken up when Jackson had taken a year a year off for London. Since coming back 18 months ago, he'd been trying to win her over. So far, she hadn't even acted as if he had ever existed.

"Stiles," she addressed him instead. "I need your help going over some numbers."

Again, Stiles turned red. Derek turned to survey Lydia, only to bring his attention back to Stiles expectantly.

Generally, Stiles had no qualms in ditching work for a few minutes to listen to Lydia's gossip. Much too often, he needed those breaks to get through the day. And it wasn't like anyone questioned why Lydia would need his help. Though he didn't often showcase his intelligence, everyone knew he was smart. Certainly smart enough that Lydia would only trust him to double check her work. According to her, everyone else was too stupid.

Now, though, someone would question it - because he had admitted to this boss himself that Lydia's request for help was code for "let's take a break and talk". Nervously, Stiles stated, "Sorry Lyds. Right now isn't really a good time."

She scowled, not one to take any notion of rejection lightly. "I don't really trust any other set of eyes to help me out Stiles. So if you could…"

Despite knowing the consequences he would face from her later, Stiles prepared himself to decline. But then Derek cut him off before he could open his mouth. "You should go. It sounds important."

For a moment, Stiles wondered if it was a trick. Maybe he'd be called out on his unprofessionalism later, away from the eyes of his peers. Hell, Stiles figured, with everything he had shared on the plane, he was probably going to get fired.

If that were true, though, Stiles continued thinking to himself, it wouldn't matter what he did in that moment. So he nodded awkwardly and stood, keeping his head down as followed Lydia out the door. Behind him, he could hear Jackson and Erika begin their chattering once more, trying to one-up one another to the boss.

"Do you think he knew you weren't actually going to help me with work?" Lydia wondered about ten minutes later as they sipped the last of their lattes. "It seemed like he knew."

Stiles shrugged, keeping his mouth occupied with drinking rather than talking.

Lydia narrowed her eyes at him. He hadn't spoken much during their ten minutes together, letting her dominate the conversation instead. Whereas usually, their conversations were fairly well-rounded.

When he still refused to say anything, anxiously sipping his drink as she glared, Lydia finally gave up with a huff and a roll of her eyes. "Well, you can at least tell me how Coach took the news of you being a spaz all over Harrison."

Stiles was sure if the day kept up like this, he'd soon be permanently red from overdose of embarrassment. "He took it just fine," he mumbled just below his breath. "I mean, I'm not fire or anything." At least not yet, he thought depressingly.

"Well of course he wasn't going to fire you," Lydia scoffed. Only Lydia could simultaneously display annoyance at his seemingly stupidity, and confidence in his ability to do his job. For his part, Stiles was annoyed at himself too. But unlike Lydia, he had absolutely no confidence.

And while it had nothing to do with his failed meeting with Harrison, it did have something to do with him being a spaz. Inwardly, Stiles was cursing himself. Why did he have to be such a goof? Why couldn't he keep his mouth shut? Why did he have to have such bad luck?

During his lost thoughts of self-depreciation, Lydia had finished her latte and had thrown the cup away. She flipped her strawberry blonde hair off her shoulder. "I'll talk to you later," she stated as she already started walking towards the marketing department. "And I expect you to be more of a conversationalist. Do you understand me?"

Smiling at the authority in her tone, Stiles answered, "Aye, aye, Captain." Then he was off to get another round of coffee to take upstairs for the others.

Finstock was gone by the time he got there. Erika was painting her nails with a clear polish, something to make nails glossy and pristine, while she talked to one of the companies that used Wolf Security. Despite the immature action of painting her nails on the job, she gave off an aura of professionalism. It probably had to do with the air of confidence she exuded and the sophisticated tone she could put to use. Stiles was a little envious of her being able to do so. She winked at him gratefully when he placed coffee on her desk.

Jackson wasn't as thankful. The moment the coffee was set before him, he handed over a stack of files. He didn't even bother looking at Stiles as he ordered, "Go deliver these to Boyd."

There was no point in arguing. As the junior member of the team, he was often treated as if he were a lowly intern. He'd tried to push back in the beginning, wanting to be seen as an actual contributing member to the design team rather than an errand boy. Once though, Finstock had gone off on one of his speeches; about how people had to work from the bottom to get to the top and that no job was too little in the journey to success. After that, Stiles didn't complain as much about the simple tasks assigned to him, if only so he wouldn't have to listen to anymore inspirational lectures. And with the way things had been going, Stiles didn't think he'd ever argue against an errand ever again. He still hated it, but he was now figuring that it might be all that he was food for.

"Oh, and pick up the receipts from Danny so you double check it against inventory."

Sighing softly in resignation, Stiles dragged his feet down the hall to where he could find Boyd, dropping off the files without a word. Boyd wasn't one to appreciate small talk, and for today only, Stiles wasn't in the mood to force it upon him.

Then he went off to the finance department where Danny was more than happy to relinquish the receipts from the past two weeks. He smiled graciously when Stiles came to pick them up. "I thought I'd have to stay later and do them myself."

Stiles suspected that Danny had shared his stress over the inventory with Jacson, and Jackson hadn't wanted his best friend to have to stay any later than usual - hence the extra work loaded onto Stiles's shoulders. It was an abuse of seniority, Stiles thought, and was adequately bitter about the fact. Maybe not as bitter as he would have been though. Stiles may have hated Jackson, but everyone loved Danny, and even Stiles couldn't begrudge the guy a small favor.

Which was why Stiles just shrugged off the implied gratitude. "Nah man, I got it."

He had just started to head out and on his way to check the inventory when a boy slightly smaller than his rammed into his side. "Oh, Stiles!" the other guy exclaimed after straightening his posture, but then he just stared into Stiles's face until further prompted.

"Yes, Greenberg?"

Greenberg was an odd guy...and awkward. And that was saying something coming from Stiles. As such, the guy got picked on quite a bit. He'd been at the company since high school, but was still only ever considered an intern.

"The boss wanted to see you in his office."

"Tell Coach I'm doing inventory."

"No. The boss, boss. Mr. Hale."


	4. Chapter 4

Stiles's panic was wholeheartedly renewed now. 'This is it,' he thought dejectedly. This was when he was going to be fired. Best to look for something new as soon as possible, though he had no idea what else he could be qualified for. At least not something that would pay for the third of the rent he was responsible in the upcoming month.

Without the need of conscious thought, Stiles's feet had carried him towards the other side of the hall to take the elevator all the way up. He hadn't even realized he'd been moving until he was right outside Derek Hale's door. Hearing voices from inside, Stiles creeped up to the open doorway and peeked his head in.

"Well, we'll go to plan B then," Derek was concluding his phone call. "Call me again if something comes up." He sounded serious, much more stern than he had appeared on the plane or the Design Department, and Stiles internally cringed at having that stern tone directed at him. But the moment the cell was placed on the desk, green eyes fell on Stiles, and a smile graced Derek's once solemn expression. "Come in," he motioned, also signaling Stiles to close the door after him.

Nervously, Stiles did as he was told. "Um, about earlier," he started, self-consciously wringing his hands, "Sorry about, uh, well…"

"Laura and I would ask for the Triskelion file."

"What?"

Derek just smiled subtly and explained, "Whenever we needed to take a break, we'd ask for the Triskelion file. Then all we'd do was hide out in one of our offices and share a drink."

"A drink? Like an alcoholic drink? Oh. Well, that's so much worse than coffee." Immediately, Stiles clamped his hands over his mouth, clenching his teeth in annoyance at himself. "I didn't mean…"

Derek's laugh cut him off. "It's okay." And from the softness in his gaze and amusement playing at the edges of his lips, Stiles had a feeling that it truly was okay.

Stiles let out a small breath of relief, his nerves settling to its typical hum."Oh, so, uh, everything's good then?" he nodded to himself as Derek just continued to smile. "Right. Good. So, you needed something from me?" If Derek was understanding about the coffee thing, and was still smiling, then Stiles figured his job security wasn't in as much danger as he had imagined. He was still uneasy about the prospect of being fired, but for now he wasn't too worried.

His unease decreased even more when his question was met with a dust of light pink across rugged, handsome cheeks. Derek was blushing, slightly as it was. "I was hoping that we could keep it between us that I was in Chicago. That it could be our secret."

Stiles had no way of knowing why people couldn't know Derek had been in Chicago, but it wasn't really his place to ask about it. Instead, he readily agreed. "Yeah, sure man. Your secret dies with me. Nothing will get past these lips. Not even torture could get me to tell anyone your secret."

Derek's smile spread to his eyes at Stiles's babbling. Casually, he leaned his desk, his arms crossed over the muscled expanse of his chest. "Thank you. I appreciate it."

"Yeah. Of course dude. And...uh, about those things that I said on the plane. Could we, uh…"

For once, Derek's smile actually showed teeth - pearl white teeth that were slightly crooked with canines that looked maybe just a little sharper than they should have been. "Your secrets die with me."

Stiles smiled back, his blood rushing downwards. At the onslaught of arousal - created by the sight before him and the words that had been spoken in that deep voice - Stiles began to back out of the office, all the while stuttering, "Okay, so, we'll both die for each other's secrets. That's good. Very intimate." He flushed darkly, hearing the phrases coming out of his mouth without any control over them, "Well, I should probably get back to work. You know, be all productive and all that. So, I'll, uh, I'll see you around."

He was already out the door when a bemused chuckle met his ears. "I'll see you soon."


	5. Chapter 5

"How was your day?" Scott greeted from the couch when Stiles entered the loft.

"A nightmare," Stiles groaned, plopping down beside him. Big brown puppy dog eyes looked at him expectantly and a little sadly. It was more than enough for Stiles to take in a deep breath and begin his tirade. "So...On the flight back from Chicago there was some turbulence." Scott nodded as if this was new information. "Well, there was this guy sitting next to me. And you have to understand that I thought I was about to die. I mean, I was really freaked out. Understandably so. And I thought he was going to be the last person I would ever see."

"Oh my God," Scott gasped. "You had sex with him! Wow. But what about Malia. Man, she's…"

"I didn't have sex!" Stiles shouted. The people across the hall probably heard it. A little quieter, but just as frantic, Stiles continued, "I told him all my secrets."

Out of all of Scott's respsonses to Stiles's misery, laughter was the least expected. And yet hat was exactly what Scott did. He laughed. "You don't have any secrets."

Stiles was appalled. He showed such by his jaw dropping. "Of course I have secrets." He had a hundred secrets...all of which had been shared to a stranger he was never supposed to see again...but did! "Everyone has secrets. You have secrets."

"I don't have secrets," Scott denied vehemently as if the mere suggestion was offensive.

"Yes you do."

"No I don't."

"_Yes _you do."

"No…" Just then, Isaac, their other roommate, came out into the living room, his eyes scanning every inch that was visible to him. His obvious need for something engendered Scott's natural impulse to help. "Everything okay?"

"I can't find my scarf."

Stiles scoffed. Unlike Scott, his need to help was practically non-existent. Especially when it concerned Isaac. "Which one?" The guy had to have more than a hundred, worn no matter how hot or humid it was outside.

Either ignoring Stiles's insincerity or not caring, Isaac answered, "The dark blue with a light blue stripe."

A wise - on the edge of psychotic - grin appeared on Stiles's face. "Well I haven't seen it," He stated, dramatically placing his hand over his heart. He turned to Scott with gleaming, honey coated eyes. "What about you Scotty? Have you seen Isaac's scarf?"

Blood rushing up his neck and ears, Scott sputtered, "Uh, no. I haven't seen it. Sorry." It was amazing that Isaac could believe him, but when it came to Scott Isaac tended trust blindly. With a musing frown, he went back to his room.

"You don't have any secrets huh?" Stiles mocked as soon as the door closed. He knew for a fact that Scott had borrowed that scarf the last time they had gone back to Beacon Hills and had lost it.

"Ok, ok. You've made your point. " Scott relented, wanting to drop the subject as soon as possible in case Isaac came back into the living room. Stiles was tempted to point out more secrets his best friend was still hiding, such as what he had going on with Kira that he refused to talk about, but before he could, Scott went on. "But I don't see the problem anyway. So you told some guy some of your secrets."

"No. Not some of my secrets. All of my secrets. And it's not some guy. He turned up at work today."

"Are you serious? Is he stalking you?"

"Apparently he's the co-founder of Wolf Security."

"Wow. But I mean, still, it can't be that bad, right?"

Stiles shook his head, letting it fall into awaiting palms. "Oh, it's bad. So bad."

The next day, Stiles was determined to do his best to avoid Derek. Scott had managed to calm Stiles down enough to reason that if he hadn't been fired yet then things would probably be okay. "He probably doesn't even care," was the reassuring thought. So Stiles had walked down the busy street that morning in a slightly better spirit than he had wallowed in the day before.

He met Lydia near the coffee shop, accepting her slender arm around his waist as she described her date from yesterday evening. As expected, the date itself sounded amazing, but Lydia had critical judgements to share about the guy. "He'll do for another date or two. Get another high priced dinner out of it. But he won't last any longer than that."

Once done, they reached the glass doors of the company and she turned her head in expectation, silently reminding him that he needed to give up equal information on his part. She wouldn't accept his silence as she had last time. Safely keeping the topic of anything work related, he shared, "Malia and I are going to move in together."

When that fact had been relayed to his roommates, they'd nodded in understanding in an 'about time' kind of way. Lydia had a completely different response. She rolled her eyes. "Well, that's never going to work." Then, with her head held high, she stalked off.

Pushing Lydia's opinion away, as well as the doubt and insecurity she was an expert had creating, Stiles went upstairs to get some quiet time to himself before either of his coworkers arrived for work, and subsequently put him to work on menial tasks. Only Finstock ever beat him to the department floor.

When he stepped into the Design Department, however, he was struck dumb to see that he was actually the last person there. More surprisingly was how quiet everyone was. Not so surprisingly was Jackson's disdain at his arrival, "Ugh, it's only you."

"It's always a pleasure to see you too pumpkin," Stiles snarked back. He stopped in front of Ericka's desk, leaning over the wooden divider to whisper conspiratorially, "What's going on here?"

She rose a delicately brushed eyebrow before shooing him away as if he were a buzzing insect. "You might want to go see a doctor if your memory is that bad." She started tapping on her keyboard, flipping her blonde hair to show off some expensive diamond earrings (not that Stiles judged, but they were probably fake). "Derek hale is here."

"Well sure but he's not here, here." The guy had already come by yesterday to observe the departments, and most likely had better things to do than to repeat the process. He was the head honcho afterall. Plus, if he were there that would mean Stiles's day would just be as bad as the day before, and that just couldn't happen. Wanting to believe his coworkers were paranoid, he ignored their uncharacteristic quiet typing, and jumped over the divider to his own desk.

"Good morning Mr. Hale," Erika called out in a sickly sweet tone.

Stiles figured she was just messing with him until a low rumble answered back with, "Good morning."

Like a clumsy deer, Stiles fell on the floor, barely missing his head from hitting his head on the corner of his desk. Heart beating rapidly, and his whole body flushed with embarrassment, he awkwardly pulled himself into his chair. By the time he was settled, Derek had already reached his personal space, elbows leaning against the divider.

A subtle, amused grin graced his handsomely stubbled expression. "Are you okay?" His tone was mocking, a masculine laughter hidden beneath.

All Stiles could do was blush and nod.

"Good." Derek turned, facing the rest of the department, all of whom were slyly smirking at Stiles's expense. "I appreciated getting to know everyone briefly yesterday, but today I was hoping to observe each department a little more informally." He took a seat at the center table that none of them actually ever used. "So please, pretend I'm not here."

That would have meant the department would have gone back to its casual frostiness - the type of environment that often reminded Stiles of high school. Erika would be multi-tasking, doing her job while also painting her nails, checking her personal emails, or talking to her boyfriend. Jackson would have had his feet propped up on the desk while either barking out orders at Stiles or dishing out insults. Finstock would be grumbling the entire time. And Stiles would have already taken off his shoes and procrastinated as much as possible before actually getting started on the files or whatever errands had been passed onto him.

But Derek was there, leaned back comfortably, watching them curiously. Therefore, everyone was working quietly and diligently, no sign of unprofessionalism or hostility.

"Is it always so quiet?" Derek asked after a while. Everyone froze; frauds caught in the act. "When we first started out, we were always talking about something: family, current events, books." he was looking to each of them in inquisition, before finally landing on Stiles and remaining there. "What has everyone been reading?"

The responses were immediate, each one vying for attention, believing for some reason that their choice of literature would make or break their reputation in the eyes of their boss. Erika was apparently halfway through _Crime and Punishment_, Jackson had just finished reading the _Iliad_, and Finstock was currently reading the autobiography Christiano Ronaldo (that was one was probably true). Stiles was the only one who didn't' answer.

He hoped his lack of response would go unnoticed. Or at the very least, that Jackson and Erika would keep talking to distract Derek away from him. Unfortunately, dark green hues narrowed on him instantly. "And you?" There was a crinkle at the edges of his eyes.

"Oh, well, I'm, uh… Currently, I guess…"

"Weren't you reading the first volume of Sherlock Holmes?" Erika offered, thinking she was helping. She wasn't.

Because while that was in fact true - Stiles loved Sherlock Holmes and had actually been on his second read through his stories - it wasn't the entire truth. Only Derek, whose eyes were gleaming mischievously, knew the entire truth of the matter. That the reason he was reading through the stories a second time was because he was writing fanfiction about Sherlock and Watson, rewriting each one with a homoerotic twist. "Oh? What did you enjoy about it?" Stiles flushed under the knowing gaze.

His coworkers must have thought he was a moron to be sitting there, blushing from a seemingly innocent inquiry about an innocent book, but most likely they had thought he was a moron beforehand anyways.

It was Finstock who ended up saving him from himself. The Coach changed the subject entirely by bringing up the Family Picnic that would be held in the upcoming weeks. He raved about the event and talked about how excited he was to see everyone and their loved ones there. It was a good distraction away from Stiles, and was therefore much appreciated, but that didn't take away from the false tone of Coach's words. In the past, the Family Picnic had been a mandatory event that everyone in the company dreaded, and that Finstock himself mercilessly mocked.

Stiles wondered if Derek could hear the lies.


	6. Chapter 6

With work done for the day, Stiles waited for Malia outside, kicking his feet against the sidewalk as he paced a few feet away from the glass doors. As much as of a gentleman as he was, he would have waited for her at her department, but Malia was adamant that they keep their personal relationship away from the relationship they had at work. Though everyone knew they were dating, and had been dating for years, Malia was against any forms of affection outside of the designated "them" time. Aggressive as she may be, she prided herself as a professional - a trait she continually berated Stiles for not having.

About ten minutes of standing outside with nothing to do (something Stiles wasn't that great at handling), Malia joined him so that they could walk to the nearby Italian restaurant for an early dinner.

"Have you met Mr. Hale yet?" she asked as she dug into her pasta like a starving animal.

Stiles almost choked on his own pasta. "What? Uh, what do you mean?"

She narrowed her dark eyes at him suspiciously, seemingly trying to decipher if he was being his usual scatter-brained self or if something else was the matter with him. Stiles cringed under her fierce attention until she decided that he was just being his weird self, and explained exasperatedly, "I heard he was going by each department to observe everyone. Has he observed the Design Department yet?"

"Oh. Yea, yea, he did."

The narrowed eyes came back. This time in astonished disapproval. Stiles was well acquainted with that look from her. "How are you not excited about this?" she demanded, her voice a practical growl, as if his lack of enthusiasm was a direct offense to her. "We're talking about the founder of the company. He revolutionized the concept of security for the average person. He took a corporate business and turned it into something that people who didn't have any money could still feel safe. And now he's here. He can turn the company around again. Maybe with some visionary help from others," she preened with the clear indication that she meant herself. "Aren't you excited about that?"

He nodded enthusiastically, if only because he knew just how important this was to her. Malia wasn't generally an overly enthusiastic person, but whenever a conversation turned to the security of the commonwealth, she became fiercely passionate. She had lost her mother and younger sister due to a lack of security available to those who couldn't pay for more than a deadbolt when she was eight, and had spent the years afterwards determined to make sure that even those in poverty could protect themselves.

Stiles had once asked her why she hadn't chosen law enforcement instead (she'd be great that), but she had only ever scoffed at his suggestion, never really providing a reason.

"You know what I really want?" Malia continued, her eyes shining intensely. "A one-on-one with him. That would really be a career boost. Don't you think?"

"You could share all your ideas," he agreed, while internally he was shaking his head at himself. A one-on-one with Derek Hale certainly hadn't been a career boost for Stiles.

"Yea. And just to hear him talk would be great. I think we share a lot in common you know. So it would be really inspirational to have a conversation with him."

It wasn't often that Malia rambled, so Stiles uncharacteristically kept his lips on a tighter leash, nodding when appropriate and smiling encouraging when needed. She deserved his undivided attention, he reminded himself as he listened to her plans to gain Derek's notice and approval (which also meant listening and not taking heart to her subtle digs at his own lack of plans on improving his image at work).

After dinner, Malia called for a cab, stating that they would spend the rest of evening at her place. Though he had actually been planning on returning to his own place so he could finish his application process for the graduate program, he followed Malia's lead. It was clear to him that Malia needed to voice out her ideas, and he figured he could do his application over the weekend.

And he had really thought she would hash out her ideas with him, needing an ear to talk to or someone to provide miniscule feedback. Or, as he walked into Malia's loft and saw the printed out rentals available nearby, he thought they might go over where the two would be moving into (because as much as Malia pressured him into moving in with her, he wasn't too inclined to do so, and he had been convincing her that they needed to get their own separate, yet to be unclaimed place).

What actually ended up happening was the two sitting on her bed and leaning against the headboard, both with laptops on their outstretched legs. "I need to know everything I can about Mr. Hale so that when I do get my one-on-one with him, he'll be too impressed to walk away." Stiles just nodded understandably and did what she implicitly was asking him to do. They remained that way for hours, only breaking for snacks and water, until the sun had lowered itself completely and Malia set aside his laptop to settle herself there instead.

He woke up to a bruising kiss the next morning, Mallia smiling that predator smile of hers against his lips. "Come on, get up," she urged, pulling him roughly to his feet.

"Wha…?" Stiles murmured sleepily, his lips moving as if still kissing though she had already moved away. Blinking groggily, he managed to open his eyes. "What time is it?"

"5:30."

"Ugh," he sighed, flopping back down onto her mattress despite her grip on his arm. "Too early."

She laughed good naturedly at his antics, though maybe her laughter was a little too harsh to be called good naturedly. Either way, she kissed him again, just as rough as before, and pulled once more to get him to his feet. "I've been going to work early ever since Derek started," she informed him. "It makes a good impression. So come on, you need all the good impressions you can get."

Which was how Stiles found himself at work far too early to do anything, and too early to meet with Lydia. He was practically falling asleep at his desk by the time everyone else started filing in. At Jackson's snickering, Stiles jerked himself awake, wiping away the dribble of drool that had formed at the corner of his mouth.

"No, no, keep sleeping. It's not like you have work or anything."

"It wasn't like I was sleeping on company time," Stiles muttered irritably.

But even as company time actually started, Stiles's eyes felt heavy and occasionally they closed for just a moment too long. Then, about an hour in, as Stiles still struggled to keep his eyes opened and focused, a note was handed to him over the divider. "What's this?'

"Drink orders for the meeting," Finstock stated. Stiles took the note and glared at it. It was indeed drink orders. Ones that could only be bought at Starbucks along the street."

"Meeting?"

"Interdepartmental meeting. Starts in forty-five minutes."

Honestly, the meeting itself shouldn't have come as a surprise. A meeting with members from each department was scheduled once a week, but just because it was on their company calender didn't mean anyone took it seriously. As far as Stiles knew, only four or five attended at most, with most wanting to discuss business through emails. Because of this, they didn't usually serve drinks, especially not special ordered ones. Stiles was close to asking about this strangeness when he realized the answer himself. Obviously, Derek was going to be there.

"Well, hurry up," Finstock ordered, already on his way towards the door. "I'll see you there."

"Wait!" Stiles flailed. Finstock stopped and turned with an irritated scowl. "Do I have to be in the meeting?" A reasonable question, Stiles thought, seeing as he had never attended one before. Finstock stared, his response not requiring actual words. Groaning aloud, Stiles jumped over the divider and headed out the door as well.

The retrieval of the drinks was rather quick, but it did give Stiles some time to think of an action plan. So far it consisted of the following steps: get in, drop off drinks, slink to the back, and avoid all contact with Derek. It wouldn't be hard, Stiles told himself as he entered the lobby with drinks in hand. A lot of people at the company were obsessed with making a good impression on the boss, and therefore would be clambering for his attention while Stiles could successfully do the opposite. He was feeling fairly confident with this plan by the time he had his finger pressed against the elevator button.

But damn if nothing could ever go the way Stiles needed them to go. Because there Derek was, already standing in the elevator that had just opened for Stiles, phone to his ear. At the sight of the man he hadn't wanted to see anytime soon, Stiles startled backwards. He was just about to bolt, in fact, when Derek put his phone away and tilted his head to one side with a curious stare. It wasn't adorable, Stiles told himself, but yet he was stuck in place and staring without a word.

Derek's lips twisted subtly in amusement. "Are you getting in?"

Ridiculously, Stiles was going to say no. "I just like to press buttons" was on the tip of his tongue. That was, until Derek reached his arm out to keep the elevator doors open and Stiles was silently pressured inside.

Inside an elevator. Alone with Derek Hale. Who already knew all of his secrets. And was constantly catching him at embarrassing moments. Yea, Stiles bemoaned internally, he was never going to be able to set a good impression.


	7. Chapter 7

The doors slid closed and Stiles prepared for an awkward silence between them. He was tapping his foot nervously in underused adrenaline. The elevator started traveling up.

"So everyone here seems very agreeable. Very friendly." Stiles looked up to see the thoughtful frown on Derek's stubbled face. His dark brows were cinched slightly in the middle. "Are they like that all the time?"

"Yep! All the time. It's awesome here. The people here are awesome. Which I'm sure is why working here is awesome." The rambling was bad enough, but then Stiles made the mistake of catching Derek's eyes. They were laughing eyes, the kind that shimmered gleefully in knowledge. Because, right, he knew Stiles was lying. Knew in fact because Stiles had given him the 4-1-1 of the company on the planes. Stiles groaned and dropped his head in defeat. "No, of course not. Usually Finstock's shouting out sports lectures to everyone. Jackson hates everyone except Lydia and sometimes Danny. Matt takes random pictures of people which I think is a sign of being psychotic. At least, for him. And this place isn't usually so quiet."

Derek gave out of a huff of laughter. "You amaze me." He shook his head. "Everything is so false here. Stale."

"They're just nervous."

"Of me?"

"Dude. Have you looked in a mirror lately. You're a pretty intimidating guy." Stiles should have been more aware of the fact that he had called his boss 'dude', but Derek was taking in the news with a nod and small smile. The awkward atmosphere that Stiles had imagined didn't seem to exist anymore. Suddenly, Stiles had the notion that he was talking to an old friend. It probably had something to do with the fact that Derek wasn't sighing in annoyance like most people did when Stiles spoke.

Derek looked like he wanted to ask something, but the elevator stopped and pinged and the doors slid open. Stiles froze. It was Malia. She caught sight of Derek and a predatory smile spread across her expression. It was probably meant to be kind and excited, but Malia was a natural predator. She stepped inside to stand next to Derek, not once giving Stiles a glance.

"Hale," she nodded in introduction, taking on her empowered, professional demeanor. "I'm Malia Tate from Research. You're coming up to one of our meetings. I think you'll find…"

"Malia?" Derek interrupted. "Yes, I've heard about your work." She beamed proudly, only to dim when he added, "You two are a couple, right?"

For the first time since the doors had opened, Malia seemed to take notice of Stiles. Stiles tried not to take it personally that Malia's response was to frown. "I can assure you that we are professional when here. But, yes, separate from work Stiles and I do have a personal relationship."

"That's great," Derek said encouragingly.

It was enough to pick up Malia's spirit again for her to state proudly. "Actually, we're planning on moving in together?"

"Is that so?" Instead of focusing on Malia, Derek's gaze fell on Stiles. His brows rose in what Stiles was sure was surprise. "Really? Well, that's good to hear. When was this decision made?"

"A couple of days ago. We're looking forward to it, aren't we Stiles?"

"Yes," Stiles readily agreed, though he felt a little off about doing so because Derek wouldn't stop staring at him.

Then the elevator stopped, pinged, and the door opened. All three of them stepped out for the meeting. Which was going to be long, Stiles just knew it.

As everyone settled in, Stiles tried to slink to the back, his back resting against the wall, away from the crowd of people he was sure had never stepped front in the room before now. Derek took his seat and Malia stationed herself up front. The last couple of people trickled in, all of them with attentive expressions and notepads before them.

"Thank you for coming," Malia started, her posture straight and her tone as welcoming as she was capable of making it. Her eyes briefly fell on Stiles and it was instinct for him to smile at her encouragingly and give her a thumbs up. "As you know, we're here to discuss the data that has been compiled to represent our profits as well as the statistics of people we are able to reach out to. At this point Wolf Security…"

At this point, Malia trailed off, a far away look in her dark eyes. Stiles knew that look. It was the one she wore when she had caught herself in being insensitive but struggled to change her wording to something more tactful. It didn't happen often; Malia didn't tend to care who she insulted. Here, however, she definitely cared about how the boss would view her and Stiles could see the momentary conflict she waged inside herself.

She took a deep breath and, deciding to go head on into what she was going to say, "Well, Wolf Security hasn't been doing well. It's been doing fairly badly in fact. We've dropped in sales and we have lost contracts that we once had. And why is this? Because we're not meeting the standards of our demographic."

Derek raised his hand. "And who is our demographic?"

"Currently our target group is small businesses and the everyday person on the street."Malia stated confidently as if it had been a test question she knew she was going to ace. "The problem is that, unfortunately, our products are not meeting our suppliers's demands."

She continued talking, but Stiles didn't hear a word of it. And not because his thoughts had gone away from him as they often did, but because was struck dumb by what Malia had unintentionally done - or maybe intentioanlly, who knew. The products, she accused, were not up to standard, and the products, everyone in the room knew, were the responsibility of the design team. Unless she meant to imply that it was the people who were making the products, but that couldn't possibly be because all products were tested before being promoted, and so far all products had met the design team's expectations. Which meant that Malia had thrown the design department - Stiles's department - under the bus.

He looked around the room to see most of those in attendance nodding monotonously. Only Finstock seemed to have noticed who she was accusing of poor work quality (Erika and Jackson having not been present). The Coach's features darkened, his jaw tightening. Any other time, he would have cut her off the moment she had said it, challenged her accusation, but with Derek sitting right beside him, Finstock seethed in silence.

Stiles was so caught up in his own shock that he didn't notice Malia had ended her presentation until Derek stated, "Thank you Malia. I just want to go back to something you said earlier. You said the designs aren't meeting our suppliers' demands?" Stiles pushed himself against the wall further, wishing he could sink through. He had even changed the wording, Stiles thought in humiliation. Yet Malia still nodded. "How do you think this could change?"

But Stiles couldn't' just let her drag his department in the mud with everyone nodding mindlessly with whatever she was saying. "I don't think it's our products that are the problem." Every head turned to him, some blank but most with irritation. It didn't' matter to Stiles; he pressed on. "I think we just need to change who we market to."

"We're marketing to the people that sell our products Stiles," Malia argued, staring at him incredulously as if to say that he needed to stop before he ruined this for her.

"Please explain," Derek prompted, staring at Stiles expectantly.

Stiles gulped at the attention, but followed through, "Our target is to everyday people on the streets," he used Malia's phrase, "so we need to advertise to them on the streets." His declaration was met with silence. Stiles's heart rabbitted in his chest so loud it could be heard by his own ears. All at once nervous at his outburst, Stiles fidgeted. "I mean not on the streets streets but like to them rather than just to the companies that sell out products. Because then…"

"We get it Stilinski," Finstock stopped him just in time, because Stiles could feel the rest of the ramble on the tip of his tongue. "And I agree. Our advertisement is good," he nodded to the marketing director and received a respectable nod in return, "but we should advertise to a more public domain."

There were murmurs after that, small discussions that Stiles had gone back to not listening to. He was only brought to awareness when everyone started to leave and Malia went out of her way to shove past him. Seriously, he thought, he was against the wall.

"Good job Stilinski," the Coach set a heavy hand on his shoulder, putting more strength in the action than he probably meant to.

When he left, only Derek and Stiles remained. Derek stepped up to him, eyes wide with a pitying gleam. He opened his mouth to speak, but Stiles beat him to it. "I know what you're thinking. But no." he shook his head and turned to head out. "Just no."


	8. Chapter 8

"I mean can you believe her?" Stiles admonished after having retold the disaster of a meeting to Scott. He expected his best friend to be shocked and adequately indignant on his behalf. Instead, Scott just stared at him, his lips parted slightly as if he wanted to say something but wasn't sure if he should. "Well?" Stiles urged.

"Well...I mean," Scott kind of shrugged, "it's totally a bitch thing to do, but…"

"But what?"

"But it is sort of Malia's thing don't you think?"

"What? No. This is totally out of left field," but even as he said it, he knew it wasn't true.

Still, it hit him harder than it probably should have when Scott felt the need to explain, "I'm just saying she's doing things like this since high school: insulting you and bringing you down. And you've always just gone along with her." Scott's voice was sad and oddly thoughtful. "I never said anything before because you never really seemed bothered by it. Figured you were just in love." He flushed in regret, realizing the fault in his silence all these years.

"I was," Stiles admitted. "I mean...I am." But Scott was looking at him with his puppy dog eyes, something akin to pity. Stiles hated it. It made his heart feel as heavy like a rock plummeting to the bottom of his gut. "I love Malia," he tried again, as if to convince more than just Scott.

"Maybe," Scott said, though he didn't sound like he agreed, "but maybe it's like a platonic love, you know? I mean, it's not like you two ever really had a healthy romantic relationship to begin with."

"Dude, what are you saying? Why are sharing these opinions just now?"

"I've shared them before! In the beginning, when you told me she snuck in your bedroom and forced herself on you, leaving behind those scratches on your back. But you got offended. Tried to say it wasn't anything you didn't want."

Stiles shook his head, unable to believe what he was hearing. Sure, Malia was a little rough around the edges and liked things a particular way and, yea, she could be a little domineering, but he wouldn't have considered their relationship unhealthy. Honestly, Stiles thought, things had been just fine between them up until he took her comments a little too seriously.

She probably hadn't even meant it the way it had sounded. Malia struggled with understanding the sensitivity of others; most likely she hadn't intended on placing the blame of the company's losing profits on the design de[artment. And even if she had meant it, it was only because she was passionate about her work. She had, afterall, continually tried to get Stiles to take his job more seriously, had tried to help him be better at what he did.

A soft hit to his shoulder knocked him out of his thoughts. "No." Scott commanded, his tone much more stern than Stiles was used to from him. "Don't do that. Don't try to rationalize her behavior towards you. You just admitted your love for her was past tense," he held up his hand again to stop from being interrupted. "You did. Call it a Fredian slip, but you did. Which means you need to accept that."

Stiles deflated. "Accept what exactly?"

"That you and Malia just aren't right for each other. That maybe it's time to move on."

As expected, Stiles wasn't too eager to go to work the next day. Less eager, in fact, than usual. Malia had tried to call him the night before, but he hadn't answered. He hadn't known what to say to her. Still didn't.

He knew what he should say, but he wasn't sure the words would leave his mouth when the situation presented itself. Stiles had been up all night, thinking about what Scott had said and he'd come to the unfortunate conclusion that he was right. What Stiles and Malia had was unhealthy. She had all the power, leaving Stiles gladly accepting whatever she was willing to give. Which hadn't been the best to begin with (though he had gone along with it because no one else had been offering him anything at all), but now that the realizations had been made, was now unacceptable.

He just didn't know how to explain that to Malia. A part of him was afraid she'd take it violently. Mostly though, he was afraid of hurting her. She had been the first girl - first person - to ever look at him like he was attractive and worth even an ounce of attention, to want to stand by his side and declare herself his and vice versa. They had spent years together, and while love may have faded, he still cared for her.

"Hey Stiles," Erika called his attention the moment he walked onto the design floor a couple of minutes late. "Mr. Hale wants to see you in his office. Something about the Triskelion file."

"Right. Okay. Thanks." Sluggishly, Stiles went to his desk to prepare the file, wondering what he had done now. As if he didn't have other pressing matters on his mind.

It wasn't long before the documents were being printed and Stiles was gathering them into a folder to the CEO's office. The door was barely ajar so he thought it acceptable to knock once before easing the door open further, catching Derrick at the tail end of a phone conversation. He smiled at the sight of Stiles as he set the cell phone on his orderly desk.

The smile had Stiles's gut twisting awkwardly, like a hundred fluttering wings beating furiously inside. Trying to ignore the sensation, he thrust the folder to Derrick. "The Triskelion file," he explained dumbly when Derrick rose a thick eyebrow in question.

Derrick laughed, opening the folder in wonder. "You created an actual file?"

Stiles blushed, lowered his gaze off to the side. "Well year, I just thought if someone ask I'd have evidence you know? Which i guess was silly of me now that I think about it. I mean, who would have stopped me? It's not like it would have been anyone's business. And no one around here pays any attention to anyone else." Stiles paused with the strong urge to smack himself. "Not that people here are…"

"I love it," Derrick stopped him from continuing, his crooked smile still in place. He was skimming through the papers, his eyes shinning in amusement. "Looks like their company is pretty loyal. 'I can honestly say that Wolf Security saved my life, literally'. Quite an endorsement." Something sad shone in his green-hazel eyes, but the smile remained. "Laura would have loved this."

Uncomfortably, Stiles shifted from one foot to the other. Everyone knew Derrick's older sister was a sore subject and Stiles wasn't sure how to continue forward. Instinct had him wanting to make an irrelevant joke to ease the tension, which he thankfully managed to control himself from doing.

Stiles didn't actually have to say anything. Derrick quickly shook himself out of the memory to say, "I wanted to assure you that the design department is not under review. I think the new products in the past year have been...great. I especially liked the plans for a taser that could be embedded in a bracelet."

Again, Stiles found himself blushing. "Um, thanks. It's too bad I screwed up its marketing attempt."

Derrick shook his head at the self-flaggation. "It's not your job to market. It's to design."

"Well, actually, as the junior member of the team, I don't design too often. I spend most of my time reviewing the others' designs." Actually, Stiles spent most of his time doing menial tasks but he didn't say that out loud. "Which is really fine with me. Reviewing designs is really a passion of mine. I mean…"

Derrick was studying him quietly, a small frown marring his once smiling expression.

Noticing this, Stiles forced himself to stop his rambling. He took a deep breath and tried to focus. "So is that why you called me up here? To tell me that the design department is okay? Because, and I don't mean to question you, don't you think you should have talked to Finstock instead? Or even Jackson or Erika. They do have seniority over me."

It might have just been his imagination, but Stiles thought he saw a tint of pink on Derrick's cheeks. He couldn't be positive since the blush was gone in an instant. He did seem a little unbalanced though, which Stiles thought was surprising.

"I also wanted to make sure you were alright. You seemed pretty upset yesterday."

"Yea, well you see how you feel when your girlfriend throws you under the proverbial bus."

An undefined emotion passed over Derrick's expression before flitting away. "Have you spoken to her about it yet?"

Stiles wasn't exactly sure if any of this was actually his boss's business, but Derrick looked sincere in his question. And maybe Stiles had gotten into the habit of admitting the truth to the guy. "Not yet. I'm a little scared about seeing her."

Suddenly, Derrick's sincerity became one of concern. He stepped closer to Stiles. On instinct, Stiles subconsciously stepped back. "Are you worried that she's going to hurt you?"

"More worried about hurting her." Derrick's brows furrowed. Sighing, Stiles found himself explaining, "After having a deep and thoughtful conversation with my best friend last night I've come to the conclusion that Malia and I just aren't right for each other. It's not just about yesterday either. I know she didn't mean anything by it and it really was a simple thing. But we want different things, you know?"

Derrick nodded as if he really did understand. "You did say that you thought you two didn't really love each other."

"What? No," Stiles denied. Him and Scott had only had this conversation last night.

"You did. On the plane."

"I did? I don't…I don't remember that." Except now that he was thinking back, he could kind of remember saying something like that. And maybe something along the lines about how the only reason he stayed is because he was afraid that no one else would ever really love him anyways. Man, Stiles grumbled internally, the embarrassment continues.

"Well, Derrick broke Stiles out of his thoughts, "if you need anyone to talk to afterwards, I'm here."

"Uh, yea, right." Stiles flushed. Awkwardly, he turned to leave. "Um, thanks." Derrick smiled and something inside Stiles fluttered again. "I'll uh, I'll keep that in mind. See you around."


	9. Chapter 9

Stiles was tense for the rest of the work day, too nervous to concentrate on any of the responsibilities thrown his way. No one noticed a difference since he rarely focused on his work anyways. Plus, none of his coworkers cared about his state of mind. Except - Stiles had to rethink that - except for Derek, who seemed acutely aware of Stiles's emotional state. Which may have been another reason for his nerves on top of everything else he had wracking through his mind.

Currently, he was pacing outside the office building, waiting for Malia to come out, murmuring his prepared break up speech. It was a lot of work to keep calm and Stiles wished that she would end soon. The longer waited for her, the more he feared he would lose his nerve. Was it really necessary to break up with her, the girl he'd been with since high school? The one who had put up with all of his quirks and tolerated his wayward ambitions? Each passing moment that she didn't step out, these questions were given more weight for him to bear. He was slowly beginning to reconsider the need to do so. Afterall, his thoughts rambled on, how much better could he be by himself?

Then Malia finally came out of the double glass doors, more than an hour since Stiles himself had stepped outside and began his pacing, and two hours after almost everyone else had gone home. She was tense and her expression was pinched, but that was a natural disposition for her. "Stiles," she greeted without much emotion in her voice, as if to hide something from him. It only made him more nervous than he was. "I tried calling you last night. It's not like you to not answer."

And maybe that's why she was putting on a stoic mask; she was waiting to see what response would be more appropriate. If something had been keeping him from answering her then she would adopt a tone of slight concern. Whereas, if she learned that he had been purposefully avoiding her, then her reaction would probably be more aggressive.

The prospect of the latter had Stiles shifting from foot to foot. Her dark eyes narrowed at the action. It was enough of a reply from him for her to get her answer. As expected, her words were much harsher when she spoke next. "Was there a reason you weren't answering my calls?"

This was when Stiles should man up and tell her exactly what had been going through his thoughts last night, but he couldn't seem to even open his mouth. He was stuck staring at her, fidgeting under her returning glare.

A few seconds later, Malia rolled her eyes. It was a familiar display of exasperation, a common occurance between them. "Well I was trying to call you about a place I found. I was hoping we could go today to see it, but since you never got back to me, I guess we'll have to make an appointment for tomorrow. Hopefully, no one else has taken an interest in it."

"Wait. What? Really?"

Malia's exasperated expression became one of complete annoyance. "Yes, really. Jesus, Stiles, we've been talking about this for days. Can't you focus on reality for just a moment to remember something as important as us taking the next step together? What's been going on with you?"

"I thought you had been calling about what happened at the meeting yesterday."

She huffed and shook her head. "Look, you don't have to worry about the meeting. I'm sorry I got mad. I forgive you. We can move on."

Stiles stepped back, affronted. "You forgive _me_? You've got to be kidding me!"

The annoyance in her features was gone, replaced by anger. "What the hell is wrong with you Stiles? This isn't like you."

"You went into that meeting yesterday with the intention of throwing all the blame of this company's downfalls on the Design Department."

She scoffed and rolled her eyes again, this time with more aggression to her attitude. "I did my research and those were my findings. I don't understand why you're taking this so personally."

"Because I'm part of the Design Department Malia!" he couldn't help but shout the statement for emphasis. It caused a few people from down the sidewalk to stop and stare at the two curiously, making Stiles suddenly remember that they were still in front of Wolf Security. The realization should have led him to move the conversation somewhere else, but he was afraid that if he did that he'd lose his momentum.

Malia seemed to notice the onlookers too. The muscles in her jaw clenched at the fact that Stiles was causing a scene in public. With her voice much lower, she tried to calm her boyfriend, "It's really not that big of a deal. You need to calm down. Since when do you care so much about your job anyways?"

"I care about not so subtly being told I suck at what I do."

"I wasn't talking about you personally. I was talking about the department as a whole."

"And again, I belong to that department." She opened her mouth to argue, and Stiles knew immediately it was going to be patronizing and dig deep into his insecurities. He wasn't going to give her that opportunity. Not anymore. "I think we should break up."

That had her stopping in whatever she was about to snap at him. The fight seemed to have drained away and for a moment she just stared. Then, her voice still low, she tried to deny, "You're overreacting. This will blow over tomorrow and we'll be fine."

Having said his piece, Stiles's voice had gotten lower too, but was much more confident than before. "Malia," he forced her to listen and accept his words, "I want to break up."

And yet, she shook her head, everything in her stance exuding confidence. "You're just stressed over something. It'll…"

"It'll not blow over by tomorrow." Stiles sighed. His nerves had disappeared. Now he was more tired than anything and yea, Malia was right about thing, he was stressed. "I thought about this all last night and today and I've made up my mind. We should break up. I think we want different things and we're just not a good fit anymore." If they had ever been a good fit in the first place.

Stiles could see her take a deep breath and how her mind churned. After a short time, but felt longer, Malia stated, "if this is just about yesterday's meeting we can talk about it when we get to my place."

If she were anyone else, he might have thought her words were on the verge of pleading, but he knew her better than that. Not liking what she was hearing, Malia was trying to manipulate the situation. Most likely, she'd get him to her place with the lure of them talking in private and then as they were there, she'd distract him with sex. It was a ploy she had done often enough. Though he had never minded before. He liked sex, and sex with Malia had always been good. But he couldn't allow himself to be swayed by it now.

"It's not just about what happened at the meeting. It's how I've been feeling."

Which might not have been the best way to explain things to Malia. She didn't take much stock in what she claimed as "sappy emotions".

As he should have expected, Malia cocked her head slightly as if she had to process what he meant by feelings. Then her eyes darkened and a nasty snarl was at her lips. "Did you meet someone else?"

"What? No." Stiles hung his head. "I just...we're done Malia. I'm sorry. But I can't be in this relationship anymore."

For a long time, she glared at him, seeming to try and read past what he was presenting to her. She didn't find anything. At least not anything she wanted to see. "Whatever. Just don't take too long in crawling back to me. I might have found someone new."

There was no point in telling her that he hoped she did find someone new, someone that truly appreciated her ambition and her passion, and that he had no intention of crawling back to her. She walked away with a haughty gait. He watched her go, caught between being relieved that it was finally over and feeling a sense of loss of what they had once had together.

Off the side, someone cleared their throat. Stiles startled at the sound. "Derek! What...what are you doing here?"

Derek was standing calmly right in front of the doors, his hands in his pockets. There was a small upturn twitch to his lips at Stiles's gracelessness."I was going to head home."

"Right. Duh. Of course. So...uh, how long have you been standing there?"

"I announced my presence as soon as I got outside," he reassured to save Stiles from embarrassment, but then admitted unsurely, "I could see the last part through the glass though. So I'm guessing…"

"Yea. We broke up."

Derek nodded in what Stiles thought to be sympathy. "And how are you feeling about it?" Dark beautiful eyes studied Stiles carefully.

With a sigh and a shrug, Stiles replied, "I'm okay. I mean, yea, it sucks that those years together just feel away, but...I don't know," he shook his head in an attempt to rearrange his thoughts. "But it needed to happen. It wasn't right between us. And you know, it might be nice being single again. I haven't been single since high school. So yea," he nodded as if to convince himself of this fact, "I'm actually looking forward to it."

"Oh." There was something in Derek's intonation that sounded off, like he didn't truly believe in Stiles assessment.

It had Stiles rethinking over everything once again. "What? Do you think I'll be horrible at being single?" All at once, his nerves overwhelmed. "Oh, of course, I'll suck at it. I mean, I was pathetic before. Now I'm just pathetically lonely."

"No!" Derek's objection cut him off. During Stiles's rant of insecurity, Derek's features had gone through a montage of emotions, but now that he had caught Stiles's undivided attention there was something shy and unsure in his expression. Not sounding at all like the confident CEO that he was, Derek sort of stammered, "I understand if you want to try out this new single life, but I...I was thinking you might want to have dinner with me." There was a tint of faded pink across his cheeks as he waited for an answer.

For an extended second, Stiles was struck speechless. Slowly, he clarified. "Like a date?"

Again, there was the lightest shade of pink against the older man's skin. Stiles found it adorable and it would have been enough to bring about a blush across his own pale face, but fortunately, he was too stunned to do so. Derek took in a deep breath and settled his gaze on Stiles. With a small, secretive smile he answered, "I admit, I was hoping that would be a date."


	10. Chapter 10

The loft was in chaos, clothes thrown about the couch haphazardly and random things tossed onto the ground in Stiles's fit of excited and nervous flailing. He was currently standing in the front of a mirror, frustrated with the fact that his hair refused to do anything but look messy. Scott was hanging over the back of the couch, laughing and shaking his head at his best friend.

"You look fine," Scott tried to reassured for what must have been the fifth time in the last two hours.

Stiles groaned moving his hands from his hair to smoothing over the blazer he'd borrowed from Isaac's closest after discarding his own ironic t-shirts and plaid over shirts. "If you knew what Derek Hale looked like, you'd know that 'fine' is hardly going to be good enough."

"You're being ridiculous."

"No. I'm being a man about to go on a first date for the first time in years."

"Pretty sure most men don't go through all of this," Scott teased, motioning to havoc Stiles had caused in his pursuit of looking better than fine.

Stiles turned on him, pointing a finger in accusation. "Hey! Either support me in my endeavors or I shall be forced to recount all the torture you8 put me through during your first date!"

"Yea, yea." Scott rolled his eyes. He looked about to say something more, possibly to continue teasing Stiles anyways, when the loft's buzzer went off. Like an energetic puppy, Scott flew to the window. "I think that's your date down there. Oh, hey, you have a point. He is kind of hot."

A pillow was thrown at Scott's head, but he dodged it with a laugh. Stiles was in the doorway between the living space and his bedroom, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "That can't be him," he denied, running his fingers through his hair once more frantically. "He's early."

"Dude, I'm pretty sure he's right on time. He told you 7, right? Well, it's 7."

"Exactly! Early! Ugh! I'm not ready. I look horrible."

"Okay, well, I'm letting him in." Scott called after him as Stiles ran back to the mirror.

By the time Derek knocked at the door, Stiles had managed to calm down. At least on the outside. On the inside, his heart was beating like a rabbit and there, something fluttering furiously in his stomach. He had to pause before opening the door, taking in a deep breath in preparation.

Though nothing could prepare him for the sight of Derek in a dark blazer - made from rich material that would undoubtedly be soft and silky to the touch - and tight, or so tight, black jeans. The man really did make black look good. Sexy.

From within the loft, Scott cleared his throat, notifying Stiles that he had been mesmerized for a second too long. Stiles startled out of his stare, earning himself a small smile from the older man. "So, um, ready? Because I'm ready. So ready."

He took a step towards Derek, only stopping when Scotted reminded him with a laugh, "Wallet. Keys."

"Right. Um, just a moment?" Then he was dashing back into his room to grab his thoughts.

In Stiles's brief departure, Derek took the chance to step inside the loft, nodding a polite greeting at Scott before casting his gaze around the room curiously, as if assessing everything in view. Scott watched him quietly, his shaggy head cocked to the side in an unspoken question. Though Derek must have noticed the attention, he ignored it in favor of taking everything in.

"Okay," Stiles came rushing back. "I'm good now."

"Have fun!"

Out in the hall, Derek brushed his shoulder against Stiles. "I like the bed covers," he whispered.

As hoped for, Stiles turned beat red and he stammered in embarrassment. "Can you maybe pretend you didn't see any of that?" Such as the mess of clothes scattered about, the batman bed covers, stack of X-Men comics, and silly photos of Scott and him when they were scrawny kids. And especially the police report clippings that were pinned on his wall. That might seem odd, Stiles worried.

But Derek was unperturbed. He was looking at Stiles fondly. "Not possible. I have no intention of forgetting anything I learn about you."

It really shouldn't have been a surprise that Derek was the type of man who went all out on dates. The guy was a CEO of a fairly successful company, and if memory served correctly, came from a wealthy family. Obviously, he had the money to splurge on fancy dates. Yet Stiles was still stunned when he was led to a limousine and taken to a five star restaurant where the lighting was perfectly romantic and the menu was too proper to display their outrageous prices. It made him think he was in the movies, the beautiful heroine being swept off her feet (not that Stiles saw himself as a female lead), and had the fluttering in his chest increase tenfold.

More than that, though, it made Stiles feel uncomfortable. He didn't belong here, and everyone in the place could see that. Even dressed in Isaac's blazer, it was clear that Stiles came from the cheaper stock of life. His palms were sweating at the thought.

Derek must have noticed his nervousness, as he noticed most things about him, but all he did was smile disarmingly as he pulled out the chair for his date.

"So," tiles started up in pseudo casualness, "you take all your dates here big guy?" Then kicked himself for saying something so stupid. He really was bad at this dating thing. He was too awkward.

Fortunately, Derek didn't seem to mind. His lips even twitched in amusement at the endearment "big guy". "They have the best lobster in the city."

Stiles nodded until he realized the weight of the statement, having mentioned something about quality lobster and lamenting about being too poor for something so great. He had admitted mournfully that he had never tasted it before. The fact that Derek had remembered something even as simple as that had Stiles heating up. He couldn't remember the last time someone had taken so much effort to take his words to heart. Which was why Stiles let the date continue as it did, despite his impulse to request for something different.

Like when he saw fresh scallops on top of flat, creamy noodles pass him by to the next table and his mouth watering at the anticipation of having the same dish set before him, but saying nothing when Derek ordered the lobster for him instead. Along with ordering a bottle of wine that Stiles couldn't pronounce. When the waiter bowed his head and took his leave, Derek was grinning as if expecting to be patted on his head and called a good boy. Stiles had no choice but to grin back, pushing the disappointment down to the pits of his being.

He figured the wine would help to quell the disappointment and to ease nerves, and he smiled genuinely when the waiter returned promptly to pour them both glasses and then leaving the bottle on the table.

"Cheers," Derek looked to him with softness in his eyes and clinked the glasses together.

"Cheers." Stiles imitated,trying not to choke on the taste. To be fair, he typically drank wine coolers, the cheap kind that tasted of sugary fruit. He wasn't expecting how different the expensive stuff was, like actually being able to taste the alcohol and the bitterness that came with it. To mask his opinion, Stiles tried starting up a conversation again. "Um...so, what do you do in your free time?"

"I mostly work out."

"Of course you do," Stiles muttered under his breath, earning himself a smirk from the older man.

"I also work on my cars."

"You cars! That's right. I think I read something about you having a collection of muscle cars. That's cool. I really, man, I just…"

"Hate muscle cars." Derek was laughing quietly. "I remember. You prefer practical cars that can last for years like the jeep you have back home."

"I don't hate muscle cars," Stiles argued, more loudly than was appropriate for a place like this. "I just hate the type of people...Shit. No. That's not what I mean." He took a large gulp of his wine to keep himself from saying anything more. But it really was stronger than he was used to and he couldn't stop from coughing as bitterness slid down his throat. He began spluttering, tears gathering at the edges of his eyes. Every eye in the restaurant narrowed in on him, some looking in concern and others looking in judgement.

Derek, though, was more alarmed than anything. He took the glass of wine from Stiles's hand and replaced it with water. "Are you okay?"

Stiles took a slow sip of water and calmed himself down enough to nod convincingly. He was blushing in mortification, and remained that way until the food came.

He hoped that with food to keep his mouth busy, he would stop embarrassing himself and the night could improve. But then he took a bit of the lobster and had to fight the instinct to spit it back out. Apparently, he didn't have the refined taste for lobster either. He swallowed the bite down as best as he could and turned forlornly to the scallops he'd seen earlier. For a moment he was even tempted to ask Derrick a bite of his steak even though it looked slightly more raw than Stiles found appetizing.

Suddenly, Derek was pulling out his phone from his pocket, checking the caller ID with a frown. "Stiles…I'm sorry. This could be important."

When he was out of sight, Stiles looked to his lone plate of steak, thinking of the risk of stealing a piece. He was just about to lean across the table to cut off a small bite when Derek made his way back to the table, and Stiles jerked back guiltily.

Stiles was talking the moment Derek pulled out his chair to talk. "So, there was this thing Scott and I used to do when we ate somewhere new. We'd order separate dishes, but then spilt them in half and share with the other. That way we could judge who had the best taste. I think that might be a good idea, huh? If we shared?"

He waited patiently for Derek to agree to his brilliant plan, but Derek said nothing. There was a strained expression that marred his once soft features.

"Is everything okay?" Stiles wondered.

"Yea," Derek answered, but his face said otherwise. "Everything's okay."

It all went downhill after that. Stiles tried to keep up a lively conversation, but Derek was clearly distracted after the phone call, and even had to leave the table twice more during their dinner. The last time Derek left for a call, Stiles was so bored and frustrated that he ended up pulling out his own phone and texting Scott. "The date's a total bust."

"What happened?"

Hurriedly, Stiles poured his irritation into the text, listing his awkwardness, disappointment and Derek's distraction.

Always the best friend, Scott was the voice of reason. "It's the first date. Those are always awkward. And maybe something bad happened, but he doesn't want to stop the date. You should just talk to him. You're good at that. It'll be fine."

And Stiles believed him. He even smiled at Derek sincerely when he came back. "Are you sure everything is okay?" He made his voice soft and caring. ""If you wanted to talk, I'm all ears. I promise you, I'm just as good of a listener as I am a talker. So you know I'm good."

He was proud to see a hint of the amused smile Derek often wore around him, but the response was disheartening. "It's fine. I don't want to talk about it."

But by then, Stiles couldn't let it go. He was determined to get the night back to being good, and it wasn't going to be good if Derek refused to share. "Bad news?" He gently prodded.

"No."

"Something to do with the company?"

"Stiles."

"Personal then?"

"Stiles," Derek practically growled, and really, Stiles thought, did every that was interested in him growl? "I said I don't want to talk about it."

It was at that point that the waiter came to suggest dessert. Stiles gave a false smile, one that was sickly sweet. "No thank you. I think we're done."

"Wait," Derek stopped the waiter from leaving, "We do want dessert. I called earlier about it." The waiter nodded and took his leave. There was some softness back in Derek's face. "You'll really like it. It's a chocolate mousse with a drizzle of peanut butter and berries."

That did sound amazing, and Stiles was still hungry, but enough was enough. "I'd rather just go."

"No," Derek tried to hold him where he was with his beautiful green eyes. There was an apology there, in their depths, as well as a promise that they would enjoy the little of what remained of their evening. Stiles was tempted to fall prey to those eyes and everything they wanted, but he was beyond frustrated and the disappointment had become like vinegar in his mouth. "Trust me. I know you. You'll love it."

And that was it for Stiles. "No. You don't know me. I get that you know all these little random secrets about me, but you don't really know me."

The outburst was a shock to both of them, and Stiles immediately regretted saying it because now Derek just looked sad. His thick, dark eyebrows drooped. Softly, cautiously, he asked "Is everything okay?"

Stiles couldn't help the bark of laughter that ensued. "Are you serious? Are you seriously asking me that?" People were staring at him again. And really, Stiles chided himself, he needed to learn to control his volume enough to stop causing a scene.

Derek flushed guiltily. "I'm sorry Stiles. I just...there are some things going on in my life right now."

"I understand," Stiles said, except that he didn't, because Derek hadn't said anything about it before then.

"And I've been a bit stressed since arriving in San Francisco. And the only times I get a chance I feel relaxed is when I'm around you." Which really was a nice thing to say and had Stiles ducking his head shyly, his cheeks a faint pink. "I'm sorry that I allowed myself to get distracted by that stress when I finally got the chance to spend quality time with you. Please let me make it up to you?"


	11. Chapter 11

It was decided that a second chance at a date would be the following Friday after everyone had gone home from work. And this time, Stiles had proposed, he would be the one to plan everything. Which, in that moment, had been to avoid any further embarrassment on Stiles's. He felt that if he was more in his element that he wouldn't mess up so much in trying to find a conversation, and therefore wouldn't be so easily ignored. Though, Stiles's figured in his more frantic times of reflection, if something else were to happen that demanded a phone call, then it wasn't like he stood a chance, but Stiles did his best to keep his spirits high and away from such worries.

It helped that throughout the week, whenever they happened to be in the same room together - which happened quite a bit - Derek would sneak him a shy smile. And sometimes when Stiles arrived in the morning it was to see a latte on his desk, the kind he got when he went to the coffee shop with Lydia.

By Wednesday, Erika came up to his desk leaning across the divider in a way that showed off her plentiful assets. Stiles stared straight into her eyes, knowing she positioned herself in such a way to be intimidating. She smirked, "So, you've got yourself a secret admirer?"

He smirked back, though it was much less scary than her's. "Do I?"

"I'm just thinking, you just dumped Malia and suddenly you're receiving lattes on your desks. Seems pretty quick if you ask me."

Stiles's playful demeanor dropped at the mention of Malia. "Well I didn't ask you."

Erika shrugged and pushed herself away from the divider, trying to appear casual, but too cruel to pull it off. "Just thought you should be aware that your ferocious little ex-girlfriend wants to know who this person is, and I'm pretty sure her intentions are less than pure. Not that I can say I blame her."

That day had been a bust, thinking of Malia trying to hunt someone down because she thought that person had stolen him from her. Which was completely untrue, though Stiles could see how it might be seen otherwise. And the moment he started thinking about the situation from another person's perspective, the guilt began to wash over him, worried that he had subconsciously thought to trade up. Though he tried to tell himself that wasn't what he had done; he had just realized that him and Malia weren't right for one another, and there happened to be someone offering themselves up to see if they turned out to be right her stead.

It all sounded bad in his head.

So bad that the thoughts and guilt just kept spinning in Stiles's head until he found himself in an elevator alone with Derek after coming back from lunch. He burned vibrantly at being in such a confined space. Derek, of course, smiled in return. He had his cell in his hand, but promptly pocketed it when Stiles entered. Stiles tried to smile too, once the door had closed, but it must have looked different than his usual smile because Derek cocked his head slightly in question.

"Everything okay?"

In that first second of being asked, Stiles wasn't going to anything. Then, a second after that, he broke down, rambling off his insecurities without taking a breath.

Derek looked at him much like he did that day on the plane when Stiles had gone off in a fear-fueled panic of listing all his secrets. It was a soft look, amused of course, and every so patient. Though this time, when Stiles had finished, gulping in air, it wasn't a smile that graced Derek's features but a small frown.

For an awful moment, Stiles thought his insecurities had ruined what may have started between them, leading him down the mental spiral of convincing himself that if that were true, it was for the best. That they had already tried and failed and there was no real need for a second chance.

The door of the elevator opened.

It was on the floor of Derek's office because Stiles had been too distracted to press the button to take him to where he needed to be. Before he could do so now, Derek stated evenly, "If you wouldn't mind coming up to my office with me. I'd like to discuss the Triskelion file with you."

Unable to decline, Stiles followed the CEO to his office, his insides fluttering and his mind taking off.

The office door was shut behind him the instant they were inside and Derek immediately turned to Stiles, invading the younger man's space. "You shouldn't feel guilty," he stated earnestly and Stiles loved the light that shined in those eyes, struck mute just by the sight of them. "You didn't do anything wrong." Derek moved slightly closer and Stiles found himself backing against the door. "And if it helps to clear your conscience, remember that I asked you out."

"Okay, I'm ready," Stiles announced twirling around the living room. Scott gave a thumbs up, but otherwise looked unimpressed. Indignant to the lack of response, Stiles made a face and placed his hands on his hips before demanding, "Where's the key?"

Scott motioned to the plastic container that had all their loose wires, remotes, and controllers. "Are you sure you want to take him there?" he asked as Stiles pulled out a keyring with a silver crossbow on it, a token Scott had earned while dating Allison that would give him access to an exclusive club downtown.

"Yea," Stiles pocketed the keyring with a crazy grin. "This is going to blow his mind. And will be so much better than some overpressed dinner," he commented as if a side note, making Scott shake his head in amusement. "Plus, clubs are totally my territory so I'll be my lovely self and he won't possibly have a chance to ignore me."

"Since when is clubbing your territory?"

"What? Since Jungle. Come on."

Scott opened his mouth to share his judgments, but then decided against it. He rolled his eyes instead and asked, "What time do you think you'll be back?"

"Why? Do you have a hot date?"

"No," but there was a blush on his cheeks that said otherwise.

"How about I call you when I'm on my way back. That way I don't walk in on you doing the dirty."

Stiles was shooed out of the loft, laughing as the door was shut firmly behind him.

When Stiles reached the coffee shop that they had planned to meet up at it was to the sight of Derek standing in a pair of tight, dark jeans and a black henley with two lattes in hand. He handed one of them to Stiles and then showed him his phone that had been completely turned off. "I told them that if anything came up they would have to call me in the morning."

Stiles grinned happily into the foam of his latte, both pleased about the lack of distraction concerning the phone and about the taste of caramel on his tongue.

"So, I've been meaning to ask. Did I tell you about my drink order? Because I know I talked about the company's awful coffee order, but I don't remember saying anything about what I usually get."

The edges of Derek's eyes crinkled in amusement and a light pink dusted over his cheeks. "No. I just paid attention to what you got when you went out with Lydia."

"Oh, that's sweet," Something within Stiles fluttered and their previous date was long forgotten. "And I mean, a little stalkerish too, but I'm cool with it." He took Derek's in his and began to lead him towards downtown, rambingling about the club he was taking them to. "It's really cool," he was still saying half an hour later when he tugged Derek into an alleyway. "It's like a top secret club that you can't get into without showing a key. And lucky for you, I have that key."

As Stiles continued to ramble, Derek's finger tightened on Stiles's hand. "Are you sure this is the right place?" He was looking around the alleyway suspiciously, the muscles of his forearms bulging as if preparing for a fight."

Heat began to pool together inside Stiles's at the thought of Derek protecting him. Which was something new that Stiles was just now learning about himself. He had never imagined he'd have a damsel in distress kink, but well…. Not that Stiles wouldn't fight back if someone attacked them, but it was a nice thought. A nice, sexy thought. It was certainly something to keep him occupied during the night when he was alone.

"Yea, I'm sure this is the place," Stiles shook the images away to lead them confidently to a dark blue door. "I told you, it's top secret, so of course it's going to be hidden where most people wouldn't change upon it."

Derek didn't look convinced, but he continued to keep in step with Stiles's stride and nothing more about his reservations.

Stiles let go of Derek's hand momentarily so he could rap his knuckles against the door and pull out the key ring. Anticipation had him bouncing on the balls of his feet. Derek was going to be so impressed, he thought gleefully. And it was going to be so much better than some fancy smancy dinner.

But when minutes passed by and no one answered, his antsy behavior began to take a more nervous edge. "I know this is the place," he said aloud, as if to convince more than just Derek. He sighed in relief when someone finally cracked open the door after the third knock. Proudly, Stiles displayed the key ring.

The man peered through the crack, the door restricted by chain, and looked curiously at the key ring before starting at Stiles blankly. "Is there something you wanted?"

Stiles floundered and tried to stutter his way through an explanation, having thought that the key itself would be enough to get them in, but from the raised eyebrow Derek was giving him off from the side said that he wasn't doing a good job of it.

The man on the other side of the door just looked him up and down oddly. "Look," he stopped Stiles from continuing his nonsense mutterings, "if you're looking for something to take the edge off or whatever, come inside. I'm sure we can arrange something for you."

"Uh," Stiles took a step back as the man began to close the door and unhook the latch, half of his brain realizing what the man meant and the other half of him wanting to deny that this was actually happening.

Derek had a strong arm around him instantly, guiding him away from the blue door. "No thank you. We're good," and then forcibly led Stiles out of the alleyway, his entire side pressed against him like a shield.

Stiles was mortified. He had been so sure that he had the right place - was still sure - and he became deflated with shame and embarrassment. His entire face was red, as well as his ears and chest. With his head hung low, he dragged his feet alongside Derek. "They must have shut down," he spoke quietly, barely above a whisper, "Scott and I used to go plenty of times with his girlfriend but she moved to France and we hadn't had a reason to come back. I'm so sorry I ruined our date. Man, I should have checked beforehand, but I just thought…"

"It's okay. Nothing's ruined." Beautiful eyes met Stiles's with a laughing gleam to them. It only made Stiles blush even more, oddly pleased that no matter he seemed to do, Derek's ration always seemed to be one of amusement.

"So, do you think you could be up for some pizza then?" Stiles asked shyly, eyeing the Chicago Pizzeria across from them. "I know it isn't anything fancy like what you had planned or as fun as what I had planned but mean…"

Derek lightly squeezed Stiles's hand. "Pizza sounds great."


End file.
